Wei Shuyu smiled mildly and said:
“I’ll review it later and mail it back to you signed. If you’re not comfortable with that, you can come pick it up.”
“Understood,” Tang Su nodded. “Then, I won’t disturb you further.”
Wei Shuyu saw her to the door.
After leaving, the first thing Tang Su did was message Jin Yizhu.
“Miss Jin, the contract has been delivered to Miss Wei. She needs to review it once more before formally signing with us.”
After sending the message, Tang Su tossed her phone into her bag and looked at the clear blue sky, letting out a long breath.
She was a professional manager, especially skilled in art investment negotiations, with a shining resume. Jin Yizhu had put in quite some effort to poach her into the company.
To be fair, facing Wei Shuyu wasn’t easy.
She could sense that this woman appeared gentle and quiet, but she wasn’t someone who could be easily handled.
Though they had no such intentions, Wei Shuyu was overly cautious.
The contract that Jin Yizhu offered had terms so generous that they were almost principle-less. Even an experienced producer or director would find it hard to secure such conditions.
Wei Shuyu was just starting out…
Tang Su sighed. Of course, she had heard of Wei Shuyu’s name.
However, Wei Shuyu’s fame lay in installation art design. If Jin Yizhu wanted to invest in her next exhibition, no matter how generous the terms, it would be perfectly reasonable.
Ever since she announced her retirement at the beginning of the year, Wei Shuyu’s final exhibition had almost become a legend, missed by countless people. Every day, they asked if there would be another one, if she could come back.
If they could secure the rights, they would probably make a fortune.
Unfortunately, what they wanted to invest in was Wei Shuyu’s movie.
Tang Su could not figure it out. Why on earth would she go off to make a movie? It was normal for an artist to go crazy, but for Jin Yizhu, an investor, to follow suit—was that not a bit abnormal?
As she mulled over these thoughts, Jin Yizhu’s reply arrived.
“Got it. Let her think it over properly. No need to rush her.”
…?
Tang Su held back again and again.
Was this still the Jin Yizhu who had overridden the opposition at headquarters, kicked out her own cousin, and reshaped the group’s structure?
Where were her thunderbolt methods? Her intimidating presence? How had they all vanished? Should she not be uniting with her on the same front right now, figuring out a way to get Wei Shuyu to sign the contract quickly?
What did she mean by no need to rush her?
“Miss Jin, I must remind you that once word gets out that she wants to make a movie, other companies will probably compete with us for her. Are we really just going to wait?”
“We have priority. We’ll just wait.”
Tang Su held back for a long time but finally could not restrain herself.
“What priority do we have? Her attitude just now was lukewarm at best. She showed no enthusiasm at all.”
She called Jin Yizhu directly. After hearing her complaints, Jin Yizhu let out a light laugh. “Then she should be even cooler toward others.”
“Miss Jin, while I think investing in her work is quite a risky move, if it’s high risk for high reward, this is indeed a great project.”
Tang Su took a deep breath and tried to explain to her new boss.
“We think that way, and others will too. Besides, artists’ minds are hard to predict. Once someone she prefers more shows up, she might choose them instead. My suggestion is that we push her to sign as soon as possible.”
“Artists’ minds are hard to predict?”
Jin Yizhu had spent most of the night on a plane and the morning in meetings. She was already seething with frustration, but hearing Tang Su mention Wei Shuyu inexplicably improved her mood a little.
“Don’t worry. I should be her favorite investor.”
Tang Su: “How are you so sure?”
Jin Yizhu: “Because she only invited me to the opening day exhibition.”
“…If you put it that way, you’re not wrong,” Tang Su replied helplessly. “That is indeed a positive sign.”
Jin Yizhu chatted with her a bit more about work and then hung up to continue the meeting.
Things turned out more complicated than she had imagined. Although Jin Yuancheng was a good-for-nothing and not an important figure, he had always been Jin Shenghua’s mouthpiece.
After she kicked Jin Yuancheng out—not even letting him keep a position at the branch—her father immediately flew into a rage.
Seeing that emotional appeals would not work and that Jin Yuancheng had been outright fired by her, Jin Shenghua finally could not hold back. He called a board meeting to thoroughly investigate Jin Yizhu’s branch reports.
How laughable. No matter how big Lionheart grew or how many fields its business spanned, it was still fundamentally a family enterprise.
As a father demanding an investigation into his daughter—did that not make him look bad?
Jin Yizhu sneered coldly as she entered the conference room once more.
At the long table, most people kept their heads down, unwilling to get involved in the dispute.
Those openly taking sides were all Jin Shenghua’s cronies.
And among them, those with the Jin surname were not few.
The new round of the meeting began. Jin Yizhu felt utter disgust but still had to muster every ounce of her energy.
What the truth was did not matter, nor did what the reports said. What mattered was which side these scheming directors would choose.
The interminable meeting dragged on until Jin Shenghua finally seized the chance to go after his daughter.
Jin Yizhu propped her hands on the table. Behind her, cold data filled the screen. She stared at Jin Shenghua, her gaze even icier than the numbers.
“So, President Jin’s meaning now is that my achievements at the branch are not impressive enough, so he wants me to develop overseas business?”
Jin Yizhu was practically sneering.
At this juncture, sideline her, then turn Hong Kong back into his territory?
“Since you think I lack experience, how can you entrust such an important task to me? Of course, you should find someone more capable.”
“You’re young, you’ve studied abroad, and you go to Tokyo often now, don’t you?”
Jin Shenghua grew even more sarcastic.
He had managed Lionheart for years and was on the verge of outlasting He Tianhe. Then his daughter went mad for no reason, throwing away her role as the pampered Eldest Miss to come stir up trouble at the company.
“Handing overseas business to you would be perfect, wouldn’t it?”
If he had his way, he should have married her off to someone suitable right when she returned to the country.
That way, she would not get in his way, and her husband’s family could even become his allies.
Unfortunately, he had not been ruthless enough back then. He believed Wanruo’s tears, saying the child was still young and wanted to play for a few years, so he let her.
Now, she had played her way right onto her old man’s head!
“Since President Jin trusts me so much, then leave the overseas business to our department,” Jin Yizhu said with a smile. “As for how we execute it specifically, President Jin doesn’t need to worry.”
So he wanted to exile her overseas? Fine. The business would belong to them, but he could forget about getting her to leave.
“If President Jin has no other opinions, let’s end the meeting here today.”
Jin Shenghua was momentarily stunned and could not help slamming the table.
“What do you mean? Since when do you call the shots here?”
Ending the meeting just because she said so? Even funnier, some people were already packing up their materials.
“Developing overseas markets—a brand-new business. How can it work if you don’t go there to oversee it personally?”
“Am I not overseeing it?” With a flick of her wrist, Jin Yizhu brought up a new PPT on the screen. “President Jin, times have changed.”
“We don’t need to go far to accomplish a lot.”
She crooked a finger, signaling her subordinate to take the stage and present the PPT for her.
“Listen carefully. This is the voice of the new world.”
Jin Yizhu leisurely returned to her seat and savored Jin Shenghua’s expression.
Jin Shenghua’s face alternated between green and white—quite the spectacle.
He could sense the shift in the atmosphere.
At the long table, aside from his own people, the rest were He Tianhe’s. Those old fogeys might be advanced in years, but they loved prattling on about innovation and embracing the new era. They had stirred things up for ages without producing anything substantial.
Now, with Jin Yizhu’s words, was she not pandering to them, giving those old fogeys a glimpse of hope?
The tide had turned… At least this time, his daughter had won.
Jin Shenghua’s emotions were complicated. If things continued like this, at the next board meeting—when the president position was decided—he might be in danger.
He could not let events unfold unchecked.
Jin Shenghua calmed himself and began pondering countermeasures.
Jin Yizhu watched his ever-changing expression and sighed inwardly.
This was human nature… Even one’s own daughter had to be ruthlessly eliminated if she threatened one’s interests, nipped in the bud.
By the time she emerged from the conference room, it was already dusk.
The meeting had dragged on all day. Jin Yizhu felt dizzy. She had never been one to immerse herself in career ambitions. The past few years had been a blur, and she had not thought much of it.
Now that she had tasted the thrill of career success and power, her mood was strangely exhilarated.
It was more invigorating than fine clothes or delicacies. No wonder once people reached that position, they refused to step down.
“Yizhu, let’s grab dinner first?” Sister Mary floored the accelerator. “How about the hotel? After eating, we can interview your driver candidates. I can’t do this job another day.”
Compared to others in the group, they had a good personal rapport, so in private, Mary did not call her Eldest Miss like at work but used her name.
“Mm,” Jin Yizhu nodded. “Tokyo needs a driver too. Best to arrange a woman. We’ll look together later.”
“All women,” Mary chuckled. “Only your family business would use male drivers.”
People who did not know better might think they were eunuchs from the imperial palace, passed down generation after generation from father to son, reeking of that foul stench from a mile away.
Mary had her own views on drivers: men were impulsive, bad-tempered, prone to reckless driving, and thus had higher accident rates.
Especially serving female clients—female drivers were naturally better.
“Sorry about that,” Jin Yizhu replied. “Our family’s Qing dynasty holdovers will have to rely on you to clean house.”
“As long as the pay is good, it’s fine,” Mary laughed indifferently. “Eldest Miss, you’re still as generous as ever.”
Jin Yizhu glanced at the Hermès bag on the passenger seat—that was the one she had given Mary last time.
It seemed she liked it a lot.
After dinner, they selected the driver candidates. Jin Yizhu sent Mary home and drove back to Central herself.
She had not been back for days, and the apartment felt utterly desolate.
Strange. She had never felt the house was so empty before.
Jin Yizhu drew back the curtains, poured herself a glass of wine, and sat by the floor-to-ceiling window. She took a sip first, and her taut nerves relaxed. The emotions suppressed by work surged up at once, nearly overwhelming her.
Under the dazzling lights, she recalled Wei Shuyu’s exquisite face.
Porcelain-like skin, eyelashes like butterfly wings, and… soft lips.
Jin Yizhu suddenly pressed her own lips. She did not know what she was reminiscing about, only that a sense of danger spread from the bottom of her heart, wrapping around her.
She could not stay here alone like this.
The next second, she called Wei Shuyu and demanded right away:
“Wei Shuyu, do you have time off next week?”
“I do… What’s up?” Wei Shuyu keenly sensed something was wrong. “Jin Yizhu?”
She did not waste words asking if she was okay. She could tell Jin Yizhu was not.
Jin Yizhu’s voice was usually clear and crisp, like mountain stream water when she spoke. But now, it sounded damp and muffled, as if oppressed by dark clouds.
“I’ve booked the flight ticket.”
Jin Yizhu said, clearly brooking no refusal.
“Wei Shuyu, I want you to come keep me company.”
